Just Another Year
by Fly On Aya
Summary: Suppose you're a guy and hates attention. Would you pretend to be gay to get away from the attention? Would you blow your cover if you fell in love with a girl who threatens to destroy it? Would you? Fang would. WARNING: PSEUDO-GAYNESS INCLUDED
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: If you hate my writing, just say so. I can change it in a snap. Just say so.**

**Iggy: I'm getting the idea that you want to die.**

**Me: Sort of. It's getting hard to write with homeworks at the top of my head. Uhhhh...**

**Max: Why don't I write your stories?**

**Fang: NOOO!**

**Me: What was that? You just said no to Max.**

**Fang: (whispers to Aya) Don't ever let her write any of your stories. Don't.**

**Me: (whispers back) OK...**

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**Chapter 1**

**Fang POV**

"When are you going to stop pretending you're gay?"

...

OK - before you freak out - let me clear things out.

One, I'm Fang. Two, I'm not gay. And three, I AM NOT GAY.

If any dudes are reading this, I have a question for you.

Do you hate being the center of attention?

Unless you're a self-centered dude, don't bother reading this. Because your opinion is useless to me.

A lot of people have been asking me that earlier question for _years_. (i.e. Iggy and his siblings.)

At first, they were cool with it. And I was totally into it. I _hated _the attention girls were giving me.

I'm a loner, and a proud one at that. When I started highschool, I assumed I would be the kid who nobody knows. The kid no one wants to be with. Instead, I was the most popular guy in the school.

During the first few weeks, I ignored it. Then, it became a deadly virus seeping through my pores, torturing me through a slow and painful death. I used to flinch every morning, knowing the day would be even worse than the last.

So when I graduated, I followed Iggy's family to his parents' "little" house in the Hamptons. I was close to them and I felt like I was home whenever I'm with Iggy's family.

My adoptive sister, Nudge, came with us too. Truthfully, she only came to be with Iggy. She had had this huge crush on him since she was five. It freaks me out.

Nudge knew I hated attention and she came up with the solution to my problem.

Pretend to be gay and girls would just shut you out completely like you have leprosy.

It worked and that was the first time I ever got my first taste of sweet, _sweet _freedom. Freedom from attention.

I admit, I did attract some gay guys too, but I just ignore them. Or when they got too close, I would punch them in the gut and they would always cry back to their mommies. That's how vulnerable they are.

I'm nothing like Iggy. I hardly speak or express my emotions. I'm not rich like them and I decided to live in my own - and with Nudge - in an apartment because their wealth clearly overwhelmed me. I would sometimes visit, just for a couple of hours.

More about me being "gay."

To pay for my community college expenses, I work as a bartender in a famous bar here. I was going to take the job to be a cashier wearing a silly chicken hat but the bartender just clicked with me.

(I did sound a bit emotional there. Savor it. It won't happen again.)

Why am I saying all these to you?

Because there's one girl who's threatening to destroy my cover.

I don't know anything about her. All I know is that her smile is contagious and I want to run my fingers through her silky brown hair.

And _kill me now_, she's wearing tight skinny jeans and a fitted leather jacket.

Pure evil torture.

Whoever she is, I want her gone. I don't want my reputation ruined by a smokin' hot girl in skinny jeans and leather jacket and hair as brown as the cappucino I had this morning.

But the thought of her gone just breaks my heart.

WHAT'S UP WITH THESE SICK HORMONES?

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**A/N: I forgot. This is a new story. The idea came to me while watching Eat Pray Love in the movies a while ago. So weird... My good ideas usually come from the bathroom.**

**Iggy: Disclaimer: Aya doesn't own James Patterson.**

**Max: Of course she doesn't. And don't you say she doesn't own Maximum Ride instead of that?**

**Iggy: Yeah, but when you dig deeper, James Patterson owns Maximum Ride. So Aya doesn't own JPatt.**

**Fang: That name sounds like a name of a pop boy band.**

**Me: I totally agree. RnR?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: THIS IS GONNA BE SHORT! BE WARNED THAT MY NEXT CHAPTERS ARE SO GONNA BE SHORT.**

**Iggy: This is why you're failing your H. English class.**

**Max: She's not failing it!**

**Fang: She got a 93 percent. Though technically, it's an A.**

**Me: I'm not failing it. Besides, it's only the third week of school.**

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Chapter 2

Fang POV

"Care to tell me why this bar has a new employee?"

I asked my manager this morning that question. And he still wouldn't tell me why.

He just answered, "You're gonna meet her."

_Her?_ Another _her_? Seriously? There's already another girl that completely possessed my brain (the one inside my head) for more than one week! Another _her_?

I am going berserk.

After a four-day vacation from college, all I get from my classes is a big bout of torture. I have to write a three-page paper on English. I have to research about the history of the computer. My brain is so full of vocabulary words that any new word that I don't know the definition might make it vomit with really big words. I have to paint a scene from my past that I really felt happy. Ughh.

Why does college even exist? Somebody choke me with a banana.

Enough with the whiny complaints. And let's go back to the new girl.

WHO IS SHE? I don't know.

WHERE DID SHE COME FROM? God knows where.

IS SHE AN AIRHEAD? Who knows?

HAVE SHE READ ODYSSEY? I sure hope so.

WILL SHE MAKE MY HEAD SPIN? Please no.

IS SHE EVEN A GIRL? I think the manager clarified that.

WHY AM I ASKING MYSELF THESE STUPID QUESTIONS? Because paranoia is controlling me.

UGHH. Ughh.

Back to the _other _girl.

I've only seen her twice. The second time I saw her was in the supermarket. Buying three watermelons that each weigh more than five pounds. I only stood there gawking at her. Then she turned her head and she actually grinned.

A side of my mouth turned up. I approached her, with my hands in my pocket.

"Hungry much?" I asked, making a conversation.

She laughed. Her laugh is like the beauty of listening Beethoven's classical piano compositions. It also made my day.

"Not really. My boss told me to buy watermelons for this special watermelon shake she's making and she forgot to tell me how many I should buy. Though they are looking very succulent." She nodded her head in wonder.

I snorted. She tapped another watermelon with her knuckles. Then she leaned her right ear and tapped again. _What is she doing? _

"What are you doing?" I asked, the words just slipped out of my mouth.

She put the melon back in the rack and picked up another one. "I'm trying to identify which watermelon will be sweet and juicy."

I have no comeback for that. Clearly I was stupefied. She held out the watermelon to me and I took it. And almost dropped it because I estimated it was more than six pounds.

I huffed. I arranged the melon on my hands and looked at her, questioningly.

"What do you think?" She asked me.

"What do I what?"

"Do you think it's gonna be sweet and juicy?"

How do I even know if it's gonna be sweet and juicy? "I don't know."

She blew the hair out of her face. "You know nothing about this, don't you?" She took back the watermelon from my hands and dumped it on her cart. She rubbed the back of her neck and smiled at me.

"Well, nice meeting you." She flashed another smile and left.

I DIDN'T EVEN GET HER NAME! WORSE, HER NUMBER!

Yeah. . . I agree. The second time I met her was kinda random. The first time was more straightforward and not at all weird.

She came in to the bar I'm currently working at and ordered a shot of vodka. I didn't give her the drink - some dude I don't care enough to even know his name - but she certainly caught my eye. I doubt she even remembered me staring at her.

Sigh.

"Ready to meet the new girl?" My boss asks me, which brings me back to reality.

I nod stiffly and wipe my hands on my towel.

"Fang, meet Maximum Ride. The new entertainer."

He waves a hand at the entrance.

And cue the girl with the weird watermelon radar.

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**A/N: It sucks! I know! And I have a huge ICE (in-class essay writing) in my H. English class tomorrow! Wish me luck!**

**Iggy: Clearly you don't need luck.**

**Max: (slaps Iggy) A little symphaty please.**

**Fang: (nods) RnR?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ADVERTISEMENT MODE! Kick it up, Iggy!**

**Iggy: (sighs) Are you a fan of MR? Are you a fan of FF? Do you listen to MR podcasts? Listen to Jeepers: A Maximum Ride Podcast by Cat and Els (Aya: See? I don't break promises!) because all they talk about is Maximum Ride and MR fanfics.**

**Me: Yey!**

**Max: I thought you forgot about that.**

**Fang: She almost did.**

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**Chapter 3**

Let me hear you say: AWKWARD.

Max points at me. "Hey! It's you again!"

My boss raises his brows at me. I shrug at him and turn back to Max. I nod at her and continue to wipe the glass I'm still holding.

Max walks closer and sits on a stool across from me. "What's your name?"

I just stare at her because she's the first girl who came closer than five feet from me. For _almost _a year.

I can almost smell her perfume: green apples.

My boss answers for me, which is REALLY nice of him. "He's Fang. And he's gay."

REALLY? DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO MENTION THAT?

Max's face turns white. The awkward-mometer just boosted up to a million. I put down the glass I was still holding and walk out of the bar.

Once outside, I ruffle my hair and sigh heavily. A poke on my shoulder turns me back to reality. I turn around and see Max.

She raises a hand, as if to wave. I wait for her to continue. "Are you really gay?" She asks, her cheeks flaming.

The very sentence cracks me up. I really _really_ want to laugh and tell her I'm not, but that would ruin the moment. I just smirk at her. Her cheeks redden even more. "So. . . You're really gay?"

My smirk deepen. "Not until recently." _True_.

She nods. Out in the corner of my eye, I see her fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. I bet this is really awkward for her. So I turn the topics.

"What's your job?" I chuck a hand on my front pocket.

"Oh. I'm the new entertainer." My eyebrows raise in suspicion. "_Not_ in the way you're thinking. I'm gonna be singing. Y'know, stuff like that." She turns her head to the side and murmurs in a soft voice. "He's gay and he still thinks perverted thoughts."

I pretend not to hear that. I nod at her and turn back around.

"Wait!"

I stop in my tracks. A hand is pulling on my shirt. I raise my arm and see Max holding on to it. "Hm?"

"I kinda need a ride back to my apartment." She scratches the back of her wrist and looks up to me with her big brown eyes. _Shit_.

I sigh. "Sure. Why not?"

She smiles. "Oh. On the way, can you show me around the area?"

_Sure. But just stay away from me as far as possible. Because I might succumb to your hot-adorableness._

_

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**A/N: RnR?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: (insert your own A/N here because I'm totally out of ideas to say.)**

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Chapter 4

_Let it stop. I beg of you. This is torture! I've been good! Why do this to me? You should be doing this to Iggy! He stole my favorite pen! Stealing is a sin! This is supposed to be his torture! NOT MINE!_

I should be really grateful because I'm with the girl who's been haunting my dreams for the past weeks. Isn't that true? Shouldn't I be?

Unfortunately, I don't feel grateful at all. I feel rather. . . _irritated_. And. . . _furious_.

HOW CAN I BE GRATEFUL IF ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS TO KISS HER? HOW?

(Let it be known that I'm the normal 19-year-old guy. Guys over the age of fourteen could only think about making out with a hot girl. Just ask any other guy my age. No, really. OK, enough with this random note. Enough!)

Out in the corner of my eye, Max is busy sipping her smoothie. (She's actually fond of avocados. Weird.)

Max glances up at me. She stops sipping. "I'm sorry for using up your time."

_Not only that, but also my confidence and courage and bravery. . . _"It's OK. My shift doesn't start until eight anyway." I roll back my head and hear my neck crick. _I didn't it know was so stiff._

Max goes back to sipping her smoothie. She has a lot of energy for a girl like her. Or maybe it's because of the energy drink I gave her. . .

NO FLASHBACKS! I forbid it!

"Can we go now?"

"Why?"

"Because my shift starts in five minutes."

Max's eyes widen and she drops her smoothie. "Oh, shit! I totally forgot!"

_Did she just say the S-word? _I pat her head and grin inside.

"Now is not the time to be patting my head! We have to go!" She yells and runs back to my car.

Or at least that's where she thinks the car was parked. "You're going the wrong way."

She stops and turns around. As she passes me, she says, "I knew that. I was just. . . You know."

I just shake my head at her. _Cursing and stubbornness. What else will I find out about her? _I decide to irritate her. "You owe me five bucks."

"I do not!" She yells.

"I paid for your drink that tastes like shit." I grin.

"No, it does not taste like shit! You do not know how to appreciate the taste of the avocado!"

"That's because it's a lousy fruit."

Max stops walking and glares at me. "What are you, an avocado-Nazi?"

"No."

Max turns around and starts to walk again.

I unlock the doors of the car and turn on the ignition.

I jump in the car and Max does too. I slip on my seatbelt and look at Max. Her lower lip is trembling.

I grin at her. "You're nervous."

She slaps my shoulder. I wince. "I am not!"

I point at her arms. "You have goosebumps."

She rubs her arms and shows it to me. "Where? I don't see them."

"Whatevs. Just chill, OK?"

Max turns away. "Fine. I am. This is gonna be my first time to sing in front of a group of people. I can't _not_ feel nervous. It's mandatory."

"You're gonna bomb it."

"How do you know?" She asks, but doesn't turn around.

"Dude. I just do."

Minutes pass for Max to answer back.

"You sure do know how to make someone feel better. For a gay guy like you."

_Really? Really! _I just give her a thumbs-up.

She grins at me. "You're an awesome friend."

_Friends. . . I wonder when we're gonna be more than friends. . ._

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**A/N: RnR?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Now that I look back in my other stories, I can't believe I actually wrote those things. I even forgot I wrote those!**

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Chapter 5

**Fang POV**

That night, Max had the time of her life. The bar was completely packed when Max came on. The crowd actually went wild, as if they were witnessing a Lady Gaga concert where all hell broke loose.

Iggy also went and he swore he had never met a girl like Max. She's full of contradictions. She has this wall blocking her inner most feelings; but when she sang and played her guitar in that stage, her wall was gradually crumbling and I managed to get a glimpse of what she really is inside.

Her passion is music, and only through music can she express her feelings. Even though I've only known Max for just a day, I felt like I've known her all my life. Like... I can't _exactly _describe it. This feeling is deep within me and I don't know specifically what it is.

That night, I saw her as an intriguing and mesmerizing human being. I'm growing fond of her.

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"Nice shirt, Fang," Iggy remarks as he points at my shirt. "That's probably the only shirt that you own that I actually liked. Your fashion sense is getting more manlier."

I grin at him and he grins back. "Oh, yeah?" I taunt him.

"Yeah, what?" Max asks from my left. She wipes the counter and I arrange the glasses in front of me.

Iggy answers her. "His shirt. I said I liked it." He points at my shirt again and Max looks at it.

She blushes and smacks the back of my head. "I do not!" She yells and stomps away.

Wanna know what my shirt says?

"SHE'S INTO ME" and then an arrow pointing to my left beneath the words.

I start to laugh and Iggy joins in. Max comes back. I try to catch her eye but she avoids my gaze. She comes back to my left and rearranges the shot glasses. I wink at Iggy and I turn around.

Iggy is laughing so hard now. I can't hold the laughter any longer so I laugh with him again. Max looks again and then she punches my gut. I double over and look up to her.

"I am not into you and I am not in denial!"

The back of my shirt says: SHE'S IN DENIAL, and then an arrow pointing to my right beneath the words.

I straighten myself and rub her shoulder. "Oh, Max. Take a joke, will you?"

Iggy seem to get a grip on himself. "Besides, he won't even fall for you. He's gay, remember?" He takes out a chair and sits down. He rests his feet on top of the table in front of him and smirks at me.

Max nods and flicks my hand off her shoulder. She opens her mouth to say something but the door opens.

Lissa enters and flashes her award-winning smile. I hate her so much. "Hey, Iggy. Hey, _Fang_." I say nothing to her. She turns back to Iggy. "Is the newest one up yet?"

Iggy shrugs. "I think so. Why don't you look at it yourself?" He points at the bulletin board next to the door. Lissa thanks Iggy and walks to the bulletin board.

"Oh! It is!" She pulls out her neon green notebook and her blue pen and starts to write down. When she finishes, she opens the door and yells outside.

I know what's going to happen next. A mob of people would start to cram the whole bar and push at each other to get a glimpse of what's posted in the board.

And sure enough, it happens.

Max nudges my side. "What are they doing?" She asks in a whisper. I don't even know why she's whispering.

I nod at the board. "Go look." She leaves the counter and goes to the board. More like _squeezes _through the crowd to the board. Five minutes later, she comes back.

I raise my eyebrow at her. "Well?"

"It's just a quote written by an anonymous person." She sounds as if in awe.

"What did it say?" I rest my hip against the edge of the table.

She lets out a huge breath. "'_Love is just one among many mysteries that logic alone cannot explain._' Whoever wrote that must be a thinker."

_I wrote that_. I want to hear what she thinks of it. "Why?"

She stares at me with her brown eyes. "Because I agree with him. Or her."

"Enlighten me."

She shakes her head. "I'd rather not. Not with a bunch of people here."

"Let's go to town then. I'll even buy you your lousy drink."

She looks offended. "It is not lousy - Heck, it's useless arguing with you over a piece of fruit."

I chuckle. "Shall we?"

She sighs. "Fine. And don't even expect that I'll insinuate my abysmal and esoteric seat of affections in a pointless manner. Got it?"

_She lost me at "abysmal and esoteric seat of affections"._

_

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**A/N: RnR? **

**Hint-Hint. The special chapter is coming up this week! (If you know what I'm talking about.) And BFO stands for Blinking Flash of the Obvious. And for other unanswered questions in Another, they'll be answered in the later chapters. So sit tight.**

**(No use telling you guys to wait, eh?)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: (giggles) Nobody knows what the SPECIAL CHAPTER is! _Mon Dieu_! How can you guys not know? Here's the deal. Anyone who guesses it right will get to preview it before anyone else does! How does that sound? Enticing? Hope it is. PM ME IF YOU HAVE A GUESS! Limited to two guesses per person. I will not reply to you if you got it right or wrong. :D**

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Chapter 6

Max POV (This will probably the only chapter Max will ever have. Sorry, Max. Tear.)

Dear Pathetic Piece of Paper,

Let's say - hypothetically - that you meet this one guy who looks so hot and handsome and he turns out to be gay. The person who meets him - let's name the person Kim - almost faints and suddenly everything she has ever believed on are all lies! Kim almost dies at the sudden information and stubbornly refuses to believe that the guy is gay.

Coincidentally, Kim gets a job at the same bar as the guy. Which makes Kim so happy.

What's the point of all this hypothetical stuff?

I. . . AM. . . KIM.

Well, my name's not Kim - it's Max, by the way - but I'm currently living in the same situation as imaginary Kim. That's the only similarity between me and her.

Let's forget about Kim, shall we?

I'm Max. Nineteen years old and single (I am not looking for any romance right now.). Currently trying to get away from freak scientist dad. No money; just starting from scratch. How the hell did I get here to the Hamptons? I hitchhiked. Worst decision I have ever made. No, really.

Why am I trying to get away from my dad? Worst dad ever. Always thinks he can make a breed of rats that can regenerate. Freaky, huh? Well, ever since his 98th epic failure to breed rats that can grow their severed tail in less than a minute, he turns his interest to humans. Then he pleads that I should be his test dummy. WHAT WAS HE THINKING? So I ran away.

Technically, I'm an adult. So he has no power over me from now on. And I'm not a minor. Basically, I think of my running away as taking a big step in adulthood. (Big pat on the head.)

I am never coming back to his house unless he becomes a totally different scientist. Why can't I have a perfectly normal scientist dad who studies genes, instead of messing with them and alters the animals' DNA? Why did God gifted him an Einstein brain if it isn't in the right place? (God, you and I know we regret it.)

Moving on from my mad scientist dad and in to the present.

So I met this guy named Fang in the supermarket. He's really good-looking and it sucked when I found out that he's gay. NOT that I like him or anything, it just. . . sucked.

I don't think he's gay, though. I know I'm stubborn and all, but deep in my gut, I know he's not gay. Do I need to elaborate? Fine.

If he's gay, then where is his boyfriend? Where?

_But Max, he said he turned gay recently. _SHUT UP! (Paper, that wasn't me. I just felt that I should right that somehow.)

He's nice and cocky and he doesn't speak much. Weird. You know, I've seen gay guys before and some of them are really energetic and loud. Fang is neither of those two. And he's an avocado-Nazi. HOW CAN HE HATE AVOCADO? Moreover, he wears a lot of black clothing. I asked him once about it and he just said he's not emo. No further explaining.

Furthermore, he has an adoptive sister named Nudge. Adorable girl, but talks too much. Once she starts talking, she won't stop unless you interrupt her or just completely shut her out. Fang definitely has a unique way to stop Nudge from talking. He tosses a five-dollar bill and a strip of paper at her and she'll stop. Just like that. I don't know what's on the piece of paper, though.

His best friend, Iggy, is just completely wild and cheery. He smiles a lot (which Fang never does) and is an amazing cook. He baked a Black Forest cake just for me! How awesome is that! And he's stinking rich! He doesn't seem to acknowledge it. In fact, he doesn't even care that he has money. It's like he doesn't even want to be rich!

Iggy and Fang are the opposites of each other. While Fang is all dark, Iggy is all light. Iggy has pale strawberry-blond hair and pale blue eyes and pale skin. I always picture him as a vanilla ice cream cone with a cherry on top.

Because I don't have money, I have to get a job. Which I successfully did in just a matter of hours after stepping foot in the Hamptons. Yes, it's where Fang also works. I work as the entertainer and Fang is the bartender. He's not the only one, though. Two more college girls who are absolutely infatuated with Fang, and he doesn't see it. Sometimes I think it's Fang who should be blind instead of Iggy.

Oh, I forgot to mention that, didn't I? Iggy is blind. He wasn't born that way, he pointed out. He also said that he lost his eyesight just two years ago from staring at the Sun for too long. I know it's a lie but he won't tell me the real reason why. (That rhymed.)

Fang, being tall, dark and handsome, is also a jerk. Just this morning, when I was sipping my coffee, he burst in my apartment through my WINDOW and gave me a box of donuts. I could've thanked him for the donuts but I was so angry at him for breaking my window. He just shrugged and left after dropping the donuts off. Jerk!

And then this afternoon, when I was in my day shift at my other job, he NUGGETED my sling bag. It took me almost two hours to get my bag back to normal.

Tonight, I'm gonna have my revenge. Paper, cue evil laugh because I can't do the evil laugh.

See you in four hours.

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OK, remember four hours ago? When I said I'll have my revenge? I got my candy-sweet revenge! I humiliated Fang in front of his customers. That's for nuggeting my bag, jerk!

So, it all happened this way:

After my day shift as a waitress, I went back to my teeny apartment to change and to take a quick shower. After that, I munched on some cashew nuts and drank a can of Pepsi. I left my apartment, locked the door, put on my denim jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and walked to the bar.

As usual, Fang was already there, sipping his black coffee (without sugar or milk) and reading poetry. I went out to the back room and dumped my bag in the table. I punched in my card and the manager walked in. He told me that I won't have to perform because tonight is Dance Friday. Inside, I was in cloud in nine, and I know that I have to control my emotions because I'm going to humiliate Fang.

So I nodded to him and went to Fang's counter. "Watcha reading, Fang?" I asked.

"Byron," he answered, without looking up from his poetry.

"What poem?"

"_The Giaour_."

My face fell. "Oh. I thought it was the other one."

Now he looked up and rose a brow. "He wrote a hundred poems. What other one?"

"You know. . . _She Walks In Beauty_."

"Ah. That. I hate that poem." Fang flipped to the next page.

I was going to argue but then the manager told us it's show time.

Two hours later, the bar was packed and Fang's counter is full of college girls that are flirting with him. I decided to play the customer.

I rose a hand and snapped my fingers. "Fang! One apple martini!" Fang smirked at me and in less than one minute, there was a small glass of apple martini right in front of me, garnished with a single curling zest of lemon skin. I thanked him and paid him.

"Tip?" Oh, how I wanted to slap that grin off his face. I handed him a five-dollar bill and proceeded in drinking my martini.

He left, stuffing the bill on his left pocket. I grinned at myself and thought it's time.

"Fang! Where's your boyfriend?"

Fang dropped his shaker and blinked many times. He slowly turned his face at me. "What?" I saw that his jaw was clenched and his eyes were flushed with irritation.

"Your boyfriend. You said he was coming tonight." He bent down to retrieve the shaker, his eyes never leaving mine. I grinned evilly at him.

He glared and I assumed that was the I'm-gonna-kill-you-glare. He ignored me for the rest of the night but my words quickly traveled around the bar.

"Did you know -"

"- Fang's boyfriend -"

"- supposedly cute -"

"- heard his BF is coming -"

"- wonder what he'll look like -"

"HE HAS A BOYFRIEND?"

"- gonna kill that guy -"

"- so romantic! -"

"- didn't know he even has one -"

"HE'S CHEATING ON ME!"

"He's not your boyfriend!"

You should know that Fang deserved it. For nuggeting my bag and breaking my window.

That's for messing with the wrong girl, Fang. I was raised by an evil scientist and from him I learned how to conceal my emotions, fight with a strong fist, and be as stubborn as an ass.

_"Never mess with me," Max said threateningly._

P.S. Fang took all my CDs away. I'm gonna chain him in a guillotine and chop off his head.

P.P.S. Mom is freaking out that I ran away from Jeb. Let's see her try to locate where I am.

- Yours, Max

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**A/N: No one? No one tried to crack the codes? (Don't know? Check Another.) Wow. So I made some pretty hard codes. Awesome! Truth be told, that was my first time making my own codes. Here are some clues:**

**1. Z X Z = A Y A**

**2. 1 = A, 5 = E . . .**

**3. Tea Time = Meat Tie.**

**4. 8, 5, 3 (1+2), 3 (1+2), 6 (1+5) = H E L L O**

**5. Adulating osculations = Loving kisses**

**Are those OK? RnR, please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey, guys. Guess what? I'm typing this chapter in my high school library! I feel like I'm doing something illegal. Sort of. Anyway, I know I said this chapter was going to be updated yesterday. Well, I didn't, so bring on the cuffs! (No, please.) Since my dad was having one of his mood swings again, I didn't get to type at all yesterday. And the fact that I was not in the mood to write. Sorry!**

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**Chapter 7**

**Fang POV**

As much as I like Max, no amount of cuteness can ever take back the humiliation I experienced last week. How can she do that to me? What did I ever do to her?

Yes, I like Max. No surprise there. As I was saying, I was deeply humiliated by the girl I really liked.

I bet she was possessed by a demon or something. And maybe, the demon controlled her mind and made her do things Max would never do. (What are things Max would never do? Hmm…)

Anyway, for the third time, I was humiliated. I am going to kill that girl, even if it takes every ounce of my manliness and self-control and my deep infatuation for her to be sacrificed.

A sacrifice and what else? I have to plot a getting-even-with-Max plan – also known as revenge, but I'd rather not use the word – and to forget that humiliation I suffered.

(The word "humiliation" should be getting old because of the countless repetitions I have made. Maybe a cliché.)

Let me put on my thinking face first.

* * *

Let's face it. I'm horrible at planning revenge (Oops.) against Max. Or rather, I can't do any planning at _all_.

I'm usually the do_er_, not the plan_ner_. I lack the imagination required of plotting revenge. You should see my kindergarten arts. They're all smudges and different shapes. Oh, and they're monochromatic. Like my fashion sense.

How can girls like me? I lack fashion sense, imagination and words. How can they be attracted to me?

(Insert irritated sigh here.) I always have questions, and yet I can never get the answers. What kind of a sick world I live in? DON'T answer that.

I should decide to let Max off the hook. Besides, it's not like she's gonna do it again, right?

_What if she did? What would you do? _Well, conscience, I will immigrate to another country thousands of miles away from Max and change my name to Nick O. Las and live as a hermit. (Ha-ha. See what I did there? Never mind.)

Moving on. I don't want to think about the worst case scenarios now. I still have to get to work. Then I'll go to sleep and wake up to the pale blushing face of Dawn projected right in my face. Then face another annoying day in college.

A slap on the counter brought me back to reality.

I remove the book covering my face and I sit up. I glance up and see Max holding up an orange (I think it is.) to me. I just arch a brow and continue where I left off in my book.

Another slap and I just continue on reading. Then, a clearing of someone's throat and followed by the tapping of a foot.

"What, Max?" I ask impatiently.

"Can you please look at me? It's rude to ask a question without looking at the person in the face."

I bring my face up and blink at her. She gently places the orange in front of me and she smiles.

I pick up the orange and examine it. "An orange. So?" I put it back and push it to her.

Her face hardens. "How can you not know what it is?"

"It's an orange-"

"It is not an orange!"

"It is too!"

"It is not! It's called a honeybell!"

I raise a brow. "A what?"

She sighs in exasperation. She pick up a knife and cut the "honeybell" in half. Then in quarters. "What the heck are you do-"

She holds up a finger. "Just shush, Fang. Ssh." She finishes cutting and she hands an eighth. I just look at her outstretche hand. "Don't look as if it's poisoned. It isn't. Oh, come on, Fang. Eat it."

I take it slowly, my doubtful gaze never leaving Max. I sniff it first and I lick it. It's suprisingly sweet.

Max rolls her eyes. "You are such a fruit critic. Just eat it already, for God's sake!" I bring up to my mouth and I bite into it. Then I suck the juice. _Oh, God._

I take out the juice-less eighth-piece of honeybell out of my mouth and throw it to the trash can. "Where did you get that?" I lick my lips because I could still taste the honeybell's sweet juice on them.

Instead of answering, Max asks, "Did you like it?"

"Duh. Where did you get that?" I point to the rest of the honeybell pieces on her hands. I feel the need to take it all away from her and devour it all.

She shrugs and grins evilly at me. "It's a new product."

"A what?"

She shakes her head, as if to tell I should be ashamed of myself. "Fang, do you forget that I work two jobs?"

_Right_. "Where did you buy it?" Because I'm going to buy five boxes of that fruit.

"I have no fuckin' idea. My manager buys all the fruits. Not me. Well, except that time when she told me to buy watermelons."

"And your point?"

She scrunches up her face. "What point?"

"Why did you introduce me to this fruit?"

"I don't know. I just felt like you should know. Besides, you're funless."

"'Funless' is not a word."

She points at me. "See? Exhibit A. You're always so logical and skeptical. Loosen up, dude!"

"Don't call me 'dude'."

"Again! Exhibit B! I am going to show you how to have fun." She smiles cheerfully, but her smile fades when she sees my book. She takes it out of my grasp and throws it over her shoulder.

I am so enraged. "What did you do that for?" I stand up and look down at Max. Max doesn't look a bit threatened. She just smiles and tells me to go get my hoodie. "No." I leave the counter, walk past Max, and pick up my book. I slap it on my thigh and I walk back to the counter.

"Fang, go get your hoodie and we are going to have fun."

I look at her with an I-don't-care face. "You mean go get some stupid avocado smoothies?"

She glares at me. "You are such an avocado-Nazi." She grabs my arm and hauls me out to the door.

"Max, my shift is star-"

"Shut up, Fang," She continues to haul me out the door and the cold air bites into my skin. I shiver.

"Max-"

"WHAT?"

"I'm cold.

She stops and pinches my cheek. Hard. "OW!"

"See? This is why I told you to go get your hoodie, yet you refused because you're so stubborn."

I rub my bruised cheek. "Can I go get my hoodie?"

"Yes. Yes, you can. You have one minute."

A minute later, I am back beside Max and we walk to town. "Why are we walking to town?" I ask.

"Because it's exercise."

_I hate walking_. "What are we doing?"

"We are going to an art museum!"

"That is your idea of 'fun'?"

She grins wickedly. "It's gonna be fun to watch you tear your eyes out."

_Evil. I can just see it. It's all around her. It's like an aura!_

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**A/N: This is three days late. I know. RnR?**


	8. AN

**A/N: Guys, bad news. Apparently, my high school teachers have made this very week - of all the weeks of the year! - to dump tons of homework and projects on my frail, little, pathetic high school life.**

**In W. Geo, I have to review for a freakin' TWIZ and I have no idea what it is. I also have to turn in my Siberia essay on Thursday. **

**As for H. English, I have ICE (In-class essay writing) on Wednesday, I also have to turn in my Who Poem on Friday and then a test on the very same day over the Odyssey (because I finished it already) and also an annotation check. I forgot what we're doing on Thursday. And I'm going to find out what I got from my Compare and Contrast Essay tomorrow! I don't feel like looking at my grade online; I kind of feel like I want it as a surprise. I'll try not to imagine the worst-case scenarios.**

**I have ASA (Asian Student Association) club meeting on Wednesday after school, instead of Thursday after school. On Friday, I also have a committee meeting.**

**I predict that my body will be very sore in the next three days, starting Tuesday, because I'm starting Personal Fitness for PE.**

**I also have to finish re-annotating the Odyssey because I apparently annotated the book using a pencil. Does it really matter that I use pen for annotations just because everybody was doing it? Should I even re-annotate the whole freakin' epic poem? Never mind. I'd rather not re-annotate. Damn the others because I don't care if I broke the rule to use only a pen when annotating.**

**What else? Oh, I didn't get to update on Another and Just Another Year last weekend because I was required to help decorated for Homecoming and tear it all down the next day. It was boring because I didn't get to pop any balloon. And I kind of, KIND OF, regretted not going for my very first Homecoming. There were two live camels there! How awesome was that? (The theme this year was Night on the Nile. Draw your conclusions.) Another reason was that my dad changed the password - ONCE AGAIN - in this laptop so I didn't get to use it at all.**

**So. . .**

**I'll update two chapters on both stories this weekend. I promise you guys, until fatigue and sleep-deprivation engulf me. Oh, and I'll also publish a new story on Friday. No further elaboration.**

**Now my future problem is how to juggle my schedule to try to update regularly on my three stories.**

**If you guys have any questions or further comments or you just want to get random because you have no one to talk to, drop me an e-mail. My e-mail address is a_y_a_**

**(Yes, it has a lot of underscores, I know; most people notice that. And also because I really want a lot of e-mails waiting for me to open every afternoon. I'm lacking them nowadays.)**

**Talk to you guys soon!**

**-Aya**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: La-la-la-la-la! (I'm trying to ignore your Death glares through my skull by singing in my awful, awful voice.)**

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Chapter 8

Fang POV

I love Halloween. I used to hate it, but this year, I saw the fun in it. Fine, I'll cut the crap. Max has something to do with it. She definitely made it my favorite holiday of the year. Wanna know what happened?

OK, OK! Stop yelling! I'll just summarize it in one word: Mario.

Yeah, you want more elaboration, right? Right. Knew that.

Well, the week before Halloween, Max told me the video game she absolutely loathed; and that is Mario. I mean, how can she hate that game? It's categorized as a classic! How can you hate that?

But she hates it. So, all week long, I planned my revenge. (I know it has been two weeks, but I'm not the kind of person who forgets grudges in just a snap.) I was shocked that my revenge actually _worked_. You should see my victory dance. _Not _that I have one.

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Morning of Halloween.

I hated that morning. I _hated_ it. Not only was the temperature freaking cold, my boss told me to take a day off. _That _was the only time I was so looking forward to working. And he totally ruined it.

Well, my English professor told me to write a book report about some book that I forgot its name and it was due that day. What kind of a teacher tortures college students like that? I didn't do it, of course. It just so happens that I have work! So I said, "Screw this."

BUT, my boss gave me the day off, and I was forced to write my book report. I didn't even care if I failed that report. I spent five hours writing that stupid report. FIVE. Who spends five hours typing their book report? That's right, me.

And there goes an extra five hours to plan the revenge down the drain. Everything on my schedule had to be redone. I was so frustrated that I just threw it away and decided to let Destiny take its place. (That sounds really cliché.)

Afternoon of Halloween.

Aah. I can still hear the effervescent squealing of little children, wearing their little stupid costumes while ringing on every door shouting, "TRICK OR TREAT!".

You know what I think? If the kids know they are going to get candy, why ask "Trick or Treat?" to the adults? Wouldn't that be simple? Just yelling "Treat!" on every door and those dumb adults will succumb to the little kids' cuteness by giving them candy. On second thought, yelling "Treat!" wouldn't be much fun. It would be just really boring and annoying.

On the hilarious side, there were some adults who were just plain stingy. One gave _pencils_ to little kids. Who gives away pencils as treats? One was really generous that I got the idea that she's gonna commit a suicide. She gave away _five _dollars to every kid who rang on her door. You know how many children went there? Seventeen. Do the math.

Night of Halloween. (That's kinda ominous.)

Since I'm an adult (I just realize that I called those adults "dumb" and _I'm _an adult.), I felt that trick-or-treating is really childish. But for Iggy, everything is fun. To him, all experience is good. Know where I'm going with this?

Iggy hosted a party that night. A _costume _party. I was invited - refusing to go to a party held by Iggy is kind of treacherous - so I just bought some cheap black wings and pretended to be an incubus. I don't even know what that is.

At the party, Iggy was wearing. . . Oh, man. It was so embarrassing. But he didn't look even a little bit embarrassed! He was laughing! That guy is really weird. How did he become my best friend?

He was not a happy camper at first, though. He cursed, glared, and shouted at me until his face was really red like a tomato. I'm totally with him. How can you be happy when your costume is a kissing booth?

That's right. His costume was a kissing booth. Not the _whole _kissing booth. Gee, you can't wear a kissing booth, you know.

But, as the night wore on, he got used to the kissing booth costume and some girls even gave him a dollar so they can get a kiss from him. (I am not going to say I was jealous, because I wasn't.)

So what's it got to do with Max? I told Ig to invite Max. He asked why and I told him because I said so. He just shrugged and he did. Then I told him to make it his party to a costume party. He was all for it.

Around nine-ish, Max came wearing the most provocative costume I have ever seen. Seriously! I would have told her I wasn't gay and made out with her right there! But since I was going to have my revenge on her, I reined my self-control in and told myself to get a grip. (That girl is going to be the death of me. . .)

Her costume was the exact opposite of mine. She was a succubus. (Now I know what it is. . .) She had a pair of white wings behind her and she was also wearing the exact same outfit when I first saw her. Tell me that wasn't provocative.

She came up to Iggy being sarcastic as always. "Nice costume, Iggy."

Iggy grinned. "Thanks, Max. Got a dollar?"

She snorted. "Oh, please. I'd rather die than kiss you, Ig. I'm grinning, Iggy." But she was grinning at him.

Iggy's grin grew wider. "I know. I can just hear the sarcasm in your voice. Ready for the party?"

"Sure. And please tell me there isn't going to be any alcohol. I can't afford to be drunk when I go to work tomorrow."

"No promises. Fang, be a gentleman. Show Max around, will ya?"

I rolled my eyes. I just turned around and I heard Max's footsteps behind me. "Fang, be a gentleman. Can you show me to the powder room?"

I turned around and looked down at her. "Max, I have no idea where the 'powder room' is. All I know is that there's a bathroom behind the door right beside you."

Her brown eyes were laughing. "A 'powder room' _is _a bathroom. It's just a fancy name for a bathroom for ladies."

"As if I care."

She stuck out her tongue and went to the bathroom. She came back and looked at me, up and down and up again. "Just out of curiosity, who are you supposed to be?"

"Lucifer."

She narrowed. "Isn't he supposed to be wearing a cape? And he's holding a red pointy trident? And isn't he supposed to be red all over? And some horns on his head?"

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "Yeah."

"You lied to me. Wait. Wait. Don't tell me who you are. I'm going to guess," She closed her eyes and thought hard. She opened her eyes and pointed at me. "You're a gay emo with wings!"

I so wanted to wring her neck. "No, not even close."

She went to my side and lifted the chains on my jeans. "What's up with this? Is this, like, your weapon or something?" She gasped. "Now I know who you are!"

"Who?"

"A gay emo prostitute with wings!"

I was itching to choke her and shake her some sense on her. So I just sighed and said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"I knew it!" Her voice lowered and tickled my ear. "You know Fang, you don't have to hide it."

I scrunched my face and looked at her in confusion. "Hide what?"

"Your adoration for whips, corsets, and fishnet tights."

I could feel my self-control slipping away. _NO! _"Shut up, Max."

"So I'm right? I was just inferring! I have got to see your apartment."

"No."

Ten minutes later, I managed to show Max without so much touching her. I was mentally patting myself in the head when I saw the signal.

"Max, you like to play video games, don't you?"

She looked at me suspiciously. _You should be_. "Yeah. . . Why?"

"No reason. Iggy is waving for us in the game room."

"Where - Oh! I see him. Never mind." She walked past me and went inside the game room. I did mention that Iggy was rich, didn't I? And blind? How he knew we were there is a mystery to me.

"What game are we playing?" I heard Max asked Iggy.

Iggy just grinned evilly. "Super Mario Kart."

I locked the door behind me and leaned against it. Max abruptly turned around and ran to the door, where I was. But she stopped when she saw me blocking the door, so she frantically looked around for a way out.

I made a tsk-ed sound. Max was glaring at Iggy and me. "You are going to pay for this." Her voice was threatening, cold, and ominous.

I arched a brow. "Oh? How?"

She clenched her jaw. "Your life."

I dared myself to dare her. "I'd like to see you try." I saw that she was thinking about it, but she was hesitating.

She dropped to her knees in defeat. I knew I won, but it wasn't enough. "Just please, _please_, let me out of here. I do not want to play that boring game."

Iggy gasped. "Boring? _Boring_? Mario is not boring! You should be hung for this!"

I cleared my throat. "You mean 'hanged'."

Iggy shook his pale head. "What?" When he thought about it, he snapped. "I'm trying to make a point here! Your grammar criticism is getting on my nerves!"

I opened my mouth to argue that I wasn't - _wasn't_ - a grammar critic when Max screamed.

"You two are a bunch of nincompoops! Let me out of here!"

Iggy and I screamed back. "NO!"

Max moaned. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?"

_You humiliated me in front of the whole bar. _"Nothing. It's Halloween. We just want to have fun."

Iggy almost ruined it. "But you hate Hal-"

"Shut up, Iggy!" I turned back to Max. "You up for a challenge?"

She sighed in defeat. "Fine. But you two are going to be dead."

Iggy just grinned.

* * *

She almost meant her word. We almost died in defeat. It was the worst and best night of my life. Worst because a girl defeated me in a game. Best because I got to hear Max's real laugh. Her laugh was like music in my ears. I could still hear it.

Iggy and I were almost bursting in curiousity, so we asked Max why she hates Mario.

Her only answer was, "You would feel the same when you play with someone and you always win."

Iggy said he wouldn't. He would even build a sculpture of himself that exactly shows his triumph and success in Super Mario Kart. He's so shallow.

All three of us just laughed. I even took back my revenge. I didn't feel successful that night because I was still having fun.

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Max slaps a rolled newspaper on the back of my head.

"OW!"

"You were mumbling. Are you talking to yourself? Oh my God! He has the sixth sense!"

I smirk. "Shut up. What was that for?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I just felt like doing it."

I rub my head. "Well, stop. Your impulsive nature is going to kill me someday."

Max laughs. The newspaper lands on my head again. "OW!"

She drops the newspaper. "Sorry! I can't help it! Your head is tempting me to smack it!"

I just glare at her. "What do you want?"

She holds out her hand. "Five bucks."

"Don't have," She holds up my wallet from her back pocket that my eyes widen. "How did you get that?"

Max just waves my wallet inches away from my face. "You are so easy to pick-pocket."

"Give me that."

She sticks out her tongue and runs outside. I stand up and chase her outside.

"MAX!"

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**A/N: I know that when I updated yesterday (This is the re-typed chapter, BTW), this chapter wasn't finished. Well, it was already eleven when I finished typing this and my eyes were threatening to close. I only realized that the chapter wasn't finish just this morning. I am so forgetful. Anyway, RnR?**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: I've got it! I have figured out when to end ALL my stories! Well, except my Anime fanfic. (HINT: I haven't updated in FOUR months. It only make sense that I write longer, to satisfy my Anime readers.) The date? Read on to find out. ;)**

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**Chapter 9**

**Fang POV**

Max is ruining my life. Not that she already isn't.

Saying Max is ruining my life sounds a bit strange. Oh, it is. After all, I've been going on and on that I like Max, that she makes me happy, that she's all I think about everyday.

And that's the problem. Because of my thinking about her, I almost got in an accident (for thinking about kissing her) with a bulldozer. I got two speeding tickets (for thinking about how soft her hair is). I spaced out while in the middle of the highway (for thinking about how she's always curious about the quotes I post in the bulletin board) and an angry mob of 50 people were yelling curses and punching all the windows in my car.

One more. Just one more encounter with my Max-obsessed mind and I'll be dead in the middle of the highway, blood splattered all over the asphalt, with a grin plastered in my face while dreaming about making out with Max. Wouldn't that be a noble death?

I have the perfect solution for this: ignore Max altogether. Break all contact with her, no more sidelong glances, no more daydreams about her stubborn personality; I'll even migrate to the Vatican City and live my lifelong dream to become a priest!

One problem: I can't seem to do it. And I'm joking on the last part. What guy would want to be priest? Anyway, I can't just forget Max in a snap. She's an unforgettable woman. The kind that stays with you, in your memory, like a scar. Or a stalker. Or a very embarrassing sight of you in a black speedo. Yeah. . .

I know Nudge noticed my inner turmoil about Max. I feel like I'm relieving high school all over again. Thanks a lot, Max.

I turn the faucet to cold because my high school memories are coming up again. _GO AWAY! _I shout in my head. Surprisingly, they do. Or maybe it was the cold water. . .

"FANG!" I jump about a foot in the air. God, I'm losing spy skills. I'm usually invulnerable, but because Max had to waltzed in to my life, I turned to a wimpy nerd who's terrified of the slamming of lockers.

I clench my jaw and scrub the pan even harder. "What, Nudge?"

"I'm going to a friend's house. Be back in three hours!" When I don't say "Have a good time", Nudge walks to the kitchen. She pokes my shoulder. I turn my head at her, just as I wash off the soap on the pan. I shake off the excess water and put it on the rack.

"What?" I demand, while drying off the pan.

"You're not saying what you're usually supposed to say." Nudge looks bewildered.

"And?" I open the cabinet where I usually put the pots and pans and put the washed pan back in it.

"You're different today. Is it because of Max?" At the mention of Max, I glare at her. She's biting down her lip to keep from laughing.

"So it _is _about Max! I knew it! Why don't you tell her you're not gay?"

"Because."

She arches a brow. "'Because'? Is that it? You're afraid! Fang's afraid!" She continues to chant the last sentence while skipping all around the kitchen.

I shake my head. "Just go already."

There's an amusing glint in her brown eyes. "Can't wait to get rid off me?"

Now I smirk. "Go, before I beat you up."

"I know you won't do that."

"Yeah."

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As soon as Nudge leaves, I continue to clean the kitchen while turning up the volume on my iPod. I wipe the stovetops clean, the table, and the counter tops.

Why am I cleaning? I want to. Since it's Thanksgiving, I decided to clean the apartment. It has been a long time since I saw the apartment trash-free. And that has been _months_. And no, it has nothing to do with me trying to drown out my conflicting emotions involving Max.

After wiping, I vacuum the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Satisfied, I move on to the fridge and cabinets. I examine the fridge for expired or already-empty foods and throw them in the trash can. I also look at the food cabinets and throws those foods too.

About thirty minutes later, I'm sweating. I rearranged the furniture in the living room, as well as clean my room and the bathroom Nudge and I share. (She complains that the reason why she's not getting 57 compliments everyday is because I'm always hogging the bathroom. Yeah, right.)

"FANG!"

"OH, SHIT!"

Right in front of me is Max. Grinning at me. While I stand here, my heart ready to burst out of my chest. She waves at me. "Hi!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" I feel like smacking her in the face. Then kiss her. Stupid hormones.

She shrugs and sits on the counter. "I was bored."

"How did you know where I lived?"

She flashes her white teeth. "'In plain sight' isn't actually the best hiding place to hide employee informations."

I shake my head. "How did you get here?"

"Um, your door was open?" Then she walks past me to look at the whole apartment. She even looks inside the closets. "Wow. So you don't own any fishnet tights, knee-high boots, or even a whip."

"Did you think I was a Las Vegas showgirl?"

"That crossed my mind. Then I realized you're too tall and too scrawny to be a showgirl."

Ouch. "Thanks. So why are you here?"

"Doesn't it look obvious?" I shake my head. "Fine. If I have to explain everything to you. I was bored, so I decided to come here and ruin the morning of your Thanksgiving. And judging from the vacuum cleaner and air freshener out, you're already miserable."

"I got it. Now leave."

"Can I stay?" She lays down on my ratty couch. She asked it in such a small voice that I leaned closer to hear it.

"Aren't you going to some Thanksgiving -"

"Can I please stay?" She's looking at me with those gorgeous eyes that I feel like drowning.

"Fine. Don't touch anything."

I hear a crash, as I go back to the kitchen.

"Oops. I touched something."

"Uh-huh. I heard it crash."

* * *

"I didn't know you were into cheesy chick flicks," Max points out, as she examines the CD rack.

"What can I say? I'm gay."

"So now you're embracing your gayness?"

"Yep. It really clicks with me."

She laughs. "I can't believe I have a best friend that is gay. This year must be full of firsts for me."

"Like what?" My mind is not interested on her firsts. It's more interested on the whole "best friend" thing. I'm her best friend? I don't. . .

"Like living on my own. Like celebrating Halloween on my own. Like -"

"Everything you've experienced this year has to do with you all alone. Is that why you're here?" I wait for her to answer. She stands up and sits next to me on the couch.

"If I tell you yes, do I get sympathy or pity from you?" I shake my head. "Can I put my head on your lap?" I nod.

"Is that a yes?" I ask. Her hair is sprawled all over my lap, waiting and taunting me to touch and feel. But I resist.

"Yeah. I thought this whole 'freedom' thing was going to be fun. I hate it. I miss my mom."

"Sweetheart, why don't you call her?"

She turns her head and looks up at me. "Did you just call me 'sweetheart'?"

_Oh, shit_. "Yeah. I'm not allowed? It feels right to me."

"OK. It's weird that I feel like you're comforting me."

"I'm your best friend. You said so. It's what I do."

She pats my hand that is resting on the arm rest. "Thanks for that. Are you going to some Thanksgiving dinner?"

"Iggy asked."

"Are you going?"

"And miss out on the turkey?"

She laughs. "Is food the only thing that occupies your mind?"

If only she knew. _Max occupies 90 percent of my brain capacity. The other 10 are food, music, books, and how annoying Nudge's babbling is_. "No."

The silence stretches. It's not the awkward kind. It's more like the peaceful one. So I close my eyes and almost take a nap.

Max shakes my knee. "You know the craziest thing?" I don't answer. "Fang? Are you asleep?"

"Yes."

"No, you're not. I asked you a question."

"Hm?"

"Listen to me," She keeps shaking my knee. I slap her hand away. "Fang!"

I glare down at her. "What?"

She doesn't notice my glare. "You know what's the craziest thing?"

"The fact that Justin Bieber was born to this generation that it's corrupting all the minds of pre-teen girls?"

"No. It's the fact that you're always in my mind."

Whoa. Say what?

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**A/N: It's December 30! I feel like it's really good day to finish the stories. HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! (And for all the readers that aren't in the US, well, Happy Day!)**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: I am giving you guys the opportunity to imaging slapping me in the face. And. . . STOP! Did that help for being angry at me for not updating three weeks ago?**

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Chapter 10

Fang POV

Three weeks ago, Max made the worst mistake of her life. She told me I was always in her mind. Yep, that was a mistake.

DON'T YOU GET IT? That confession will forever change my life! Or rather, it's already starting to. Let me paint you a picture. . . er, create an equation.

Me + Gayness = No screaming girls = Freedom

Me + Gayness + Max = Torture = Temptation

Me + Gayness + Max + confession = Total world pandemonium = Me confessing I'm not really gay

Now, do you get it? Look at the last equation. Do you now see why my life is crashing down on me? Sure, I'd like to tell Max I'm not really gay. But not now. Not now, when we're "best friends".

OK, that kinda hurt. But still, it means we're closer than just friends. That's a big improvement for my part. BUT IT'S STILL NOT ENOUGH! I'm being tortured here!

* * *

Christmas is just around the corner and I haven't even bought my present for Nudge. Should I even give Max a present? Should I? Let me get back to that one.

Max may act like everything is in tip-top shape, I don't. Last night at work, I kept glancing at her in the stage. Once, I gave the wrong drink for a customer. But she was a college girl and didn't care about it because she was checking me out. That was good. Not the checking me out part.

Damn her. If I weren't falling for her, I would just toss this problem down the drain and forget about it. Like a dead goldfish. But no. I'm falling for her and my emotions for her are more confusing and conflicting than ever.

Why did she have to be here? I was doing fine until she showed up and twisted and turned my life upside down. My fake gay persona is hanging by a thread. I have to tell her.

But not now. Just not now.

You know how they say guys evade the whole argument after a breakup? Do you really know why guys do that? All guys don't want to be called assholes. I mean, we're human beings too. We want girls to like us and not be known as cold-hearted jerks who trample all over girls' fragile hearts. We evade those kinds of arguments because we care. About the girls' emotional being. We don't want them to be more hurt after breaking up with them. So those of you girls who are reading this, the next time a guy dumps you, don't say he doesn't care. He does. (I'm sorry if this is a bit hurtful. It's reality. Deal with it.)

So what does this have to do with my situation? Sure, the truth hurts. If I tell Max I'm not gay now, she'll get hurt and kill me. In my opinion, keeping the truth from her will save her a whole lot of crying. Not that I can imagine Max crying. (I truly don't.)

This is my plan: Tell Max the truth on New Year's Eve. That way, if Max will kill me, at least I'll spend my last year holding her.

Ain't that romantic?

* * *

"I tasted your tongue."

WTF? My eyes bulge out of their sockets. My hand is just on the knob, ready to open the door, when I heard Max say that.

"Your tongue tastes like grape juice."

WTF? What the hell is happening beyond this door? Is Max - NO! Don't even think about it!

"Gosh, your tongue is long and slimy."

That's it. I'm breaking through this door! I will kill the guy that is disgustingly making out with Max! I start to open the door, but the door beats me to it. I fall to the ground on my back. The fall takes away my breathing for a minute.

Wait. Doors can't open on their own. I raise my head and I see a white furry dog sprinting towards me.

Mamma mia.

* * *

"I'm so sorry!" Max exclaims for the bajillionth time. She wipes my forehead and bandages my cut cheek.

I'm now sitting on my own sofa, with Max taking care of me. I'm in my apartment with an Alaskan malamute and the girl of my dreams. How, I don't know.

"How the hell did you get here?" I ask her.

"I was waiting for you," she wipes her hands with a paper towel and leaves the sofa. She scratches the head of the dog and the dog leaves my lap.

"The door was locked."

"I'm not stupid."

I scrunched my face in confusion.

"Anyone can pick locks. You really should triple lock your door." The Alaskan malamute jumps on her lap and licks her face.

This girl never ceases to amaze me. I shake my head and sigh. "Why are you here?"

"I'm bored."

"And you are, every second of the day."

I see her smile. "You so know me."

"Real reason?" I turn my body so I'm not lying on my sofa. I let my left arm dangle on the ground. I snap my fingers and the dog leaves Max. I scratch the dog's head and whimpers in satisfaction. _I totally envy you_, I think.

"I wanted you to meet my dog."

"Your dog?"

She nods. "I was jogging two weeks ago when I passed the pet store. I saw her there, all cuddled up inside a ratty cardboard box and a sign was stuck on the window, saying she was on sale. I felt sorry for her; I wanted to buy her."

She crosses her legs and my eyes flash towards them for a second. I look away and motion for her to continue.

"I didn't have money with me at that time, so I promised her I would buy her the next week. I wasn't able to because of work," I nod in agreement. "So, after work last Thursday, I saw her again and was relieved that no one bought her yet. Just this morning, I took the money I was saving up and bought her."

I pat the dog's head. "Her name?"

"Akila. It means 'wise'."

I nod. Akila's hazel brown eyes looks up at me, omnisciently. It's as if she's saying something at me.

_You have a secret. It is wise that you tell her now. It is better for the hurt to be experienced now, rather than later._

I glare at her. Max sure knows how to perfectly name a dog. I send a telepathic message: _Shut up. What do you know?_

Akila's white furry head tilts to the side. _This is my advice. Complications might occur in the future, if you decide to not tell her._

I scowl and clench my jaw. What does she know, anyway? She's just a dog.

Akila's hazel eyes are looking back at me, ominously.

_What you have always wanted is around. But your decision can destroy and take it away from you forever._

Wisdom is so overrated. It's not like that's ever gonna happen.

* * *

**A/N: Guys, this week and next week are Finals. Specifically, 16, 17, 20 and 21. So, I won't be able to update for the next two weeks. Maybe by 12/24, I'll update on Another. :D**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! :D Just showing some Christmas Cheer!**

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Chapter 11

Fang POV

"Will you sit down? You're going to give me a crick on my neck."

"Then stop following me."

"How can I not? You're blocking Heidi Klum."

Max sits down on her couch. I've been spending my Christmas vacation with her, since it started two days ago. Well, that and because I'm ignoring Nudge. There aren't any good hiding places on our apartment, so I asked Max if I can hide Nudge's Christmas present. You wanna know? Like hell you will.

I pat Max's shoulder. "Patience, my dear stubborn BFFE."

Max looks at me confusingly. "BFFE?"

I give her a DUH look. "Best Friends For Eternity, girl." Just saying "best friends" strikes straight through my masculine ego. Hurts so much. . .

Max cracks up. She goes, "Gayness certainly agrees with you. You're practically glowing!"

I grin. "Maybe it's your lights."

Max disagrees. "No, it's your homosexuality."

My grin widens. "Never would have thought, huh?"

She smiles back and turns her head to the TV. She looks appalled. "What the hell is she wearing?" She points at what Heidi Klum was wearing. "Look at it! It's so bright and provocative!"

Now it's my turn to be appalled. "Hell, that red dress perfectly hugs her voluptuous curves."

Max's jaw drops. "What happened to the Fang I know?" She grabs my cheeks and turn my head this way and that way. She pinches my cheeks and pulls. She examines my eyes and ears and nose like a plastic surgeon would.

"He died and was reincarnated as Harry Potter. Stop hitting me."

Max grins and pulls away. "No, I meant, since when do you care about fashion?"

I shrug. "It's fascinating." True, it really is. Kill me now.

Max shakes her head, as if I should be ashamed. But there's a small smile in her beautiful face. "Can you change the channel? I'm getting tired of Kelly Osbourne's preppy British talk."

I nudge her and give her a You-should-be-guilty look. "Racist. Or rather, language-Nazi."

"Shut up. Change it to Hannah Montana, so I can criticize the death of Miley Cyrus's innocence."

I smirk at her. "Harsh."

She just shrugs, as if it's a fact. Probably is. "But still true, though. She became the new Britney Spears. Next thing you know, she'll be shaving her head and will end up 6 months in rehab."

I shake my head. "No, not harsh. Cruel."

Max makes a lunge for the remote. I toss it to my other hand immediately. "Change it."

"Fine."

* * *

Two episodes of Hannah Montana and millions of criticisms on Miley Cyrus about her clothing, attitude, talents, and innocence later, Max is exhausted and drooling on one of her throw pillows.

She looks so adorable when she sleeps. Except she snores and drools. Though I find that very cute because it means that Max is still a little girl at heart. (Aw. Fang made a Grandpa.)

I slowly and gently remove her head off my lap and I stand up. Seven days from now, December 31, is New Year's Eve. I still don't know how to approach Max and tell her that I'm a lying best friend who is not really gay. That's a really tough one.

"Hey, Fang," Max says, groggily. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and sits up.

"Yeah?" I look down at her and she looks up.

"Make me something to eat."

I grin. "The hell I will. Order some pizza."

She pouts. "I don't have any more money. Please?"

I snort. I know she has a ton of money. But I give in anyway. "Fine," I stand up and walk to her kitchen. I open a cabinet and take out a box of spaghetti and a small jar of Ragu. I open her fridge and take out the leftover grilled chicken we ate when Iggy told us to eat dinner at their house yesterday.

Once the spaghetti is _al dente_, I cook the Ragu and shout over at Max, "You know, I shouldn't be doing this!"

"I don't care! You're doing it right now!" she yells back.

I go, "You're a girl! You're supposed to know how to cook!" I fix up a plate of spaghetti and pour sauce over the pasta. After I microwave the chicken, I place a piece next to the spaghetti. I look over Max's fridge if she has any basil. I pluck a leaf and put it on top of the spaghetti. I grab a fork and go back to the living room.

"Here you go, your Highness," I say, sarcasm wounds with my deep, masculine voice.

She beams at me and says her thanks. "You know I can't cook."

"Then why do you have those," I point at what I cooked. "if you can't cook."

She shrugs and takes a bite off her chicken. "Figured I can teach my self how to cook spaghetti, since it's so easy when you guys make it. But you already know what happens when I try to do just that." she raises her eyebrows at me and I nod.

I stare at Max's Christmas tree. "That is one sad and pathetic tree."

Max smacks the back of my head. "Give praise to the tree. That's the only tree I can afford."

"It's not even real!"

She raises her eyebrows. "Is yours real?" Ooh, burn. Nice one, Max.

I don't answer and she smiles in victory. "But you still have to admit -"

She raises her hand.

"That -"

She glares at me and emphasizes the meaning of her action.

"Your tree -"

"Shut it! Do you not see my hand here? What does this mean? What?" She waves her hand to my face.

"Means I should shut up?"

"And what were you doing?"

"Not shutting up?"

"Good. Now, shut up and leave my tree alone." She stands up and goes to her kitchen to wash her finished plate. She comes back and crouches in front of her tree. She takes a present and hands it to me.

"Here's your present." I look at it for a second, my mind reeling. She's giving me a present! "Just take it, Fang."

I take it and study it. It's pretty small; I estimate it's 5" by 5" by 5". It's something small. A t-shirt. Maybe. It's not making a sound when I shake it, so it's something thick and big.

Max laughs at my cynicism. "Relax, it's not poison, nor is it a whip."

I stare at her. "Why would I need a whip?"

She grins. "Yeah. Forgot you retired from being a Las Vegas showgirl. So, yeah! Your gift is not a whip!" She winks at me.

I still don't say anything. I look down at the gift and decide that I will treasure it forever.

Crap. I still don't have a gift for Max. Damn. "What do you want for Christmas?" I ask her.

She blinks and steps back. "Uh. . ." She scratches the back of her head. I wait for her answer. "Anything really!"

"Really? Will Iggy's poop be good?" _Keep a straight face! _

Max throws her head back and starts laughing. "No, no! I don't want wastes! Much less Iggy's! EW!"

I smirk. "What do you really want?" I ask, turning more serious.

She sits down next to me and grabs my head. Uh-oh. Is my hand cold? Sweaty? Oh, God. What if- "I would really like the sky to drop tons of snow now."

Did I hear her right? "What?"

"I want snow."

"You want snow." The information is clearly not getting through my head.

"Yeah. I've never seen snow." She tilts her head and her brown eyes depicts her curiousity.

There, I already know what I'll get her. I nod. "Snow it is." With all my self-control, I pull my hand away from Max. It's killing me not to hold her hand and kiss her. I want to yell at her to STOP LOOKING SO EFFIN' ADORABLE!

"You'll get me snow?" You can just hear the excitement in her melodious voice.

"Yes, sweetheart. I'll get you snow." I pat her head.

She smiles warmly. (Literally, I feel so warm.) "I feel like a five-year old."

I pinch her cheeks. "I feel like your brother."

"Brother! I want hot chocolate!" She screams in her a five-year-old voice. She stomps her foot too.

My smile fades away. "Really?"

"Yes, really!"

* * *

**A/N: I would really like to stop snowing. The smarty meteorologists said it will snow here in Illinois on Friday. I refuse the snow to fall down to the ground.**

**Fang: What?**

**Iggy: Snow is so fun!**

**Max: I hate snow.**

**Me: You've never seen snow.**

**Max: Yeah, I have.**

**Me: Whatever.**

**All: HAPPY HOLIDAYS! RnR?**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! This is the last chapter, I'm afraid... :'(**

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Chapter 12

Fang POV

OH MY GOD, I'M FREAKING OUT. For the first time in my sad, pathetic life, I'm actually freaking out.

It's New Year's Eve and I'm supposed to tell Max I'm not homosexual and I'm totally infatuated with her ever since she caught my eye. Then, if she doesn't get all aggressive and sad, maybe we'll kiss and live happily ever after.

_Or not_. Shut up, conscience! Back off and let me wallow in self-pity!

See, this is my agenda today:

1. Clean up both the apartment and self.

2. Get a haircut (?)

3. Confess to Max that self is not gay and in love with Max.

4. Give Max gift.

5. Stop Nudge from flirting with Iggy.

6. Have a moment (any kind) with Max.

7. Get paycheck.

NOT necessarily in that order, of course. And ignore number 2. I decided not to get one because I like my hair messy. Besides, Max said my hair "contradicts with my homosexuality" which makes me a "unique homosexual being with a masochistic personality." (Her actual words.)

Her words hurt, but I had the feeling that she was complimenting me. For that, I was grateful and refused to get my hair cut. It's really rare for Max to give a compliment. Think of a leap year. Know how rare that is?

So I finished numbers 1, 4, 5, and 7 this morning. Numbers 3, 5, and 6 has yet to come. Probably all 3 numbers would be accomplished tonight. Hopefully.

Now, I'm off to the grocery store to buy some garlic and onions because Iggy ran out. I wonder why. (He's always running out of something. And I always buy those.)

As I lock the door of my apartment and put the key in my front jean pocket, I plot the ways to confront Max. God, there are so many. I pass the pastry shop, lost in thinking, when something catches my eye inside the shop. Then, I feel my phone vibrate in my butt.

I stop and hide in the dark alley next to the shop. I open up the text and read:

_fang, need help. a creepy dude is standing outside the pastry shop im working in. max._

Furious and agitated, I glance inside the shop. I see only Max standing behind the counter. I leave the alley and pass the creepy dude. I take a quick look and the creepy dude is one of those annoying businessmen in monkey suits. Hate those people. And the nerve of him to lean against that pole and stare at the shop.

I go in and Max looks up. She looks relieved. She frantically motions me over. I move closer. "Grab your bag," I say to her, in a shockingly calm tone. Hmm.

So she does just that. While she's changing, I buy two slices of Devil's food cake. She emerges from the back, with her sling bag hanging around her shoulder.

"Fang, thanks -" I wrap an arm around her shoulders. She looks up at me, confused. I give her the small box containing the cake slices.

"What happened? Why did you need my help?" I ask her in a low voice.

Max lets out a breath. "That guy outside is a regular customer. Lately, I feel like someone's following me. Then yesterday, I saw him behind me when I walked here to work. Today, it's freaking me out. He's been outside for 20 minutes; I can't get out."

I feel like laughing and slapping my palm to my forehead. "You're being stalked, Max," I say to her. Then I add to myself, "Can't say it's unfortunate. With you looking like that and all."

"What's that?"

"Nothing. Let's go." New Year's Resolution: Work on self-comments and make it to mental self-comments.

"Wai -" I grip her shoulder tighter. She nudges my side.

We exit the shop, my arm still around Max. So I say to her, "Max. . ."

"Huh?" She looks up, waiting for me to answer.

I stare at her brown eyes. "I love you."

Her own eyes widen. "HUH?" I lean down, my eyes closing, and capture her soft lips. Max struggles to push me away, but I lock my free hand around her right wrist and clenches. Max eases, and I open my eyes just a bit. I see the creepy dude blush furiously and run away. I give him one of my You're-dead, cold stares. Wimp.

I pull away and whisper, "He's gone." Max has her brown head down, her hair covering her whole face. I take Max's chin and turn her head up. "Max, why are you blushing?"

My asking only makes her blush even harder. She swats my hand away and pushes away. Her left hand flies to cover her mouth. She gives me an incredulous look. Like she couldn't believe I just kissed her.

I take a step forward. "Max, that kiss was to get rid of that stalker."

She nods vigorously. "I know! I get it!" She turns on her heel and walks away. I grab her wrist.

I smirk. I know why she's acting this way. He-he. "Don't tell me. . ."

"DON'T SAY IT!" she hisses.

"That was. . ."

"NOT ONE WORD!" she covers her ears.

"Your first kiss. . .?"

Max stops, her beautiful face _really _red, and looks at me. It's like the word "humiliation" is stamped on her forehead in all caps. She doesn't say anything.

Oh, wow. "Oh, wow," I say out loud. I clear my throat. The atmosphere is really awkward to the max. "Can we forget -"

Max nods. "Oh, yes. Like it never happened."

I agree. "Gotta go." Without another word, I walk my way to the grocery store. Two stores away from the grocery store, I stop and take a deep breath.

Oh, God. I'm Max's first kiss. SHIT! Even though we agreed that we both forget that whole _thing_ ever happened, the _thing_ won't go away. I close my eyes; I can feel Max's soft lips on mine and her sweet floral scent. SHIT! The _thing _is forever imprinted in my mind. Not even Iggy's embarrassing moments work to get the _thing _off my mind.

Cursing under my breath, I go in the grocery and buy the garlic and onions. The cashier looks at me in a weird way because I keep on cursing myself. Now, people think I'm crazy. Great.

I leave the store, irritated with myself, and walk back home. I stop because Max is standing outside my door. I glance behind me, to my left, and to my right, and now to her. Am I dreaming?

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I pretty sure I sound irritated. Which I am.

She holds up my little box. Oh, my cake. "This is yours, right?"

I let out a small sigh. "Come in. We'll eat it." I unlock the door and practically push Max inside.

Max stumbles inside and almost falls. I catch her arm and pull her back. I let go as soon as I smell her scent. _This is getting really hard._

Max gently settles the box on my coffee table. I go to the kitchen and take 2 forks.

"I'm gonna pay you back," she says, as she starts to eat her slice of cake.

"No need. Already got your compensation," I reply and eat my cake.

"What?" Her fork is sticking out of her mouth.

I smirk. "Your first kiss."

Max blushes and does not say anything.

* * *

Do I really have to tell you that I'm currently in a New Year's Eve party? That I'm drinking beer even though I'm not legal to drink yet? That Iggy is being stupid because he's doing his happy dance? That Max is busy having the time of her life watching Iggy humiliate himself?

THAT I'M SO NERVOUS THAT I FEEL LIKE THE AIR IS GETTING HEAVIER BY THE MINUTE? Yes, I am so nervous.

In just a matter of minutes, 2011 will overthrow 2010 from its throne. And I am going to confess to Max I'm straight right - after she stops flirting with that brown-haired dude because it's irritating me.

I grit my teeth and focus on the television, watching New Yorkers flood Times Square. Yet, I am unable to keep myself from looking. Max just put her hand on his arm.

REALLY? I clench my fist and finish my drink. The beer burns all the way down my throat. Now the dude tucks Max's hair behind her ear.

One more, just one more and I'm gonna lose it. I throw away my cup, then stride towards Max, just in time because she's about to hug him. I drag her away from the wide-eyed dude and out the balcony.

"What the hell was that?" I demand from her. For some reason, my heart is pounding hard.

"Nothing! It was a harmless flirtation! Why do you care?" Max pulls away.

"Why do I -" I stop myself. It's so hard to tell her. Max looks at me, her eyes telling me to continue. "Why? Because I'm your friend."

"Yeah, but you're not my brother," she turns back, but I stop her. "What now, Fang?"

I let out a huge sigh. "It irritates me that that _guy _touch you," I point inside.

Max throws up her hands. "Again, you're not my brother! You have no right to tell me what to do!" she yells.

"Just get away from him."

Max pokes my chest. "You do not tell me what to do! I am going back there."

"Why are you yelling?" I ask.

She yells louder. "Because you're commanding me! You're not my brother or my father! I'm an adult; I do whatever I want to do!"

"Well, you know what?"

"What?"

"It's annoying to watch other guys flirt with you!" I grasp her wrist.

"So? You're gay!"

"I'M NOT GAY!" I shout. In a lower voice, I say, "It hurts to see you with other guys. I'm in love with you, Max. I'm not gay."

Her shoulders sag. I turn away, because I don't want to see her face. Then my eyes widen when she says, "You should've said that earlier."

"What?"

She shrugs. "I already know you're not gay. Before you ask how, it's because of the way you kissed me. And how you reacted after that."

I open my mouth to say something, yet no sound comes out.

Max grins. "Fang, I'm not stupid. How many times do I have to say that? I already knew you weren't gay; I was just too stubborn to believe it."

I can't say anything. Wow. I'm so stupid. I clearly underestimated her. But I go, "Why? Why would you flirt like that?"

"I just wanted to confirm that you're not gay. And," she smiles at me. "it clearly worked. You're straight."

I envelop her in an embrace. "You could've told me before," I whisper on her ear.

She pushes away and looks up at me. "Why should I? It was fun to see you suffer in agony."

"You little -"

Max shushes me by pressing her finger on my lips. "I feel the same way."

"What?"

"I love you too."

"Where did that come from?"

She lightly slaps my cheek. "You just told me you were in love with me. This morning, you told me you love me. Fine. I'm never gonna say the words again." Max pushes me away and crosses her chest.

I take her in my arms again, but she resists. "No, no. I wanna hear them again."

She shakes her head. "Tell me some of your words of wisdom first."

"Why?"

"Because it's impossible to love truly and be wise at the same time. Your wise crack words made me think it's actually possible."

"Love is beautiful and terrible and it doesn't make things perfect. But you know what? This is perfect." I turn up her chin.

Inside, we hear the people counting down. "Three. . . Two. . . One. . . HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"Oh, yeah?" she teases me. Her hand twines through my hair.

"Yeah. This is where we kiss now."

"You want to?"

_Stop taunting me! _"Tell me you love me first."

She pulls on my hair. My lips hover just an inch away from hers. "Tell me," I murmur.

"I love you."

"That wasn't hard, right?"

"Kiss me. Just do it."

I kiss her lips softly. "Max, your command is my wish."

"Are we going to live together now?"

"Just as long as Akila doesn't poop on the carpet."

You know what? The whole gay thing is probably the best decision I have ever made. I met the girl of my dreams and learned that doing the happy dance indeed makes one happy. (Iggy demonstrated it perfectly.)

In this new year, I'm gonna face new problems. And I'm not going to be a wimp and solve them with nonsensical solutions. Max will be beside me, of course, doing what she usually does best: order people.

So in conclusion, it's just another year.

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year to everyone! I know I said this story was supposed to end yesterday. I went partied all night and forgot to post this. I'm really sorry!**

**Hope you guys enjoyed reading my story (ignoring the typos)! Thanks for supporting me all the way!**

**Have a great new year everyone! That's coming from me. Not Iggy or Fang or Max. They're too busy playing Dance Central.**

**RnR?**


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